Don't Whistle Past the Graveyard

Ch. Ninety-Two

"Back!" I hissed. "Go back!"

I spun on my heel and ran across the trophy hall, bent double in the hopes that would keep them from seeing me through the dusty windows. The others were staring at me, confusion etched on their faces and I realized they must not have heard me.

When I reached them, I grabbed Shane's wrist and Kyle's arm, tugging them around. "They're coming this way," I said between clenched teeth, jerking them toward an adjacent hallway at the end of the trophy room. "Move."

No one asked any questions. They just picked up their pace and I released my hold, running as fast and as quiet as I could. Light footsteps whispered along behind me as we booked it toward the end of the rows of trophies and rounded the corner. My boots slipped on the dusty linoleum and I nearly went down, my hand slapping against the ground.

I felt fingers on my elbow, but recovered before Shane had to help me any more. Long-legged Kyle had managed to lope ahead of the rest of us, leading the way toward what turned out to be the main entrance hall.

There was a brief impression of a collection of couches and recliners arranged in small groups, and then we were running down another long hall. Kyle's pace slowed slightly as we began to come across doors. All of them were closed, but the slit-windows present in each were enough to make us cautious.

I ducked as we passed each one out of reflex.

Voices and footsteps echoed behind us, chasing us deeper into the school. The long hall suddenly split, rows of lockers stretching out to our left and right, facing more doors. Many of these doors were open. At the end of the hallway leading to the right was a stairwell.

Because we're not complete idiots, we took the left hall. The open doors forced us to take it at a fast walk, Kyle peering cautiously around the corners of the doorways to make sure the coast was clear. This hallway soon ended, offering only a right-hand turn.

Shane swore. "I'll bet dollars to doughnuts this just loops back around to that main hall. We take this and we'll run right smack into 'em."

I'd take that bet, too.

"So what do we do?" Lisa asked, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. Her rifle was clutched to her chest so it didn't rattle against anything as she ran, and she kept looking over her shoulder.

The voices and footsteps were growing louder. Under that, I could hear muffled grunting and the scuff of dragging boots. Someone was fighting against someone else.

My face was grim. "Hide until they pass."

"Trap ourselves like rats." Lisa shook her head. "Rats with no better options."

I lifted a shoulder in a helpless shrug.

"Or..." Shane trailed off, chewing at his lower lip, his head cocked. "We ambush them."

I gave him a blank stare. "Ambush who?"

He pointed back in the direction we'd just come. I jumped slightly as there was a muffled thud and a grunt of pain, followed by a choked laugh. This was followed by a flurry of blows—the sound of flesh striking flesh.

"You think that's Aaron?" I hissed. We all huddled in closer together as the sounds of a tussle died down.

"Who else could it be?" Kyle asked. He looked at Lisa.

It was her turn to give a helpless shrug. "It's most likely him," she whispered. "But I don't know what these guys do to the new people they find."

"I think we know exactly what they do," Shane said, voice low.

The memory of bullets spitting at my feet and the wild dash through the surrounding neighborhood had my heart pounding. I swallowed hard against a suddenly dry throat, wondering if that was a hint at the treatment Aaron could expect. I wasn't putting anything past them.